


Dress to Impress

by flowerdust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Eating Disorders, Feminization, M/M, Rough Sex, and feeling pretty, sammy likes makeup, so kind of dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 13:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9550658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerdust/pseuds/flowerdust
Summary: Maybe Dean will look at him and tell him he's beautiful. Maybe he'll sweep him off his feet and fuck him into the mattress, holding his small and delicate wrists in his bigger, firmer ones. Maybe Dean will notice him this time, tell him he loves him and actually mean it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> !!sorry if this sucks but the idea has been on my mind for awhile!! 
> 
> hope you enjoy. read tags please!!! Lov u

Sam is kneeling on the bathroom floor, boney knees bruising, his fingers shoved deep into the back of his throat, tickling and roaming around, trying to find the perfect spot. He finds it, keels over and vomits like it's nothing, then he sits back up, shoulders held high, a proud smile lingering on his face and gets up on his tired feet, limps to the sink and rinses his mouth.

He feels better now.

Maybe Dean will look at him and tell him he's beautiful. Maybe he'll sweep him off his feet and fuck him into the mattress, holding his small and delicate wrists in his bigger, firmer ones. Maybe Dean will notice him this time, tell him he loves him and actually mean it.

Maybe, maybe, maybe, Sam thinks, as he applies a glossy, pink, lipgloss and a shimmery pink eyeshadow. Maybe tonight will mean something.

He sits on the bed and waits.

 

Dean gets home an hour later, places his coat on the nearest bed, toes of his shoes and places them next to the door. He sighs heavily, squeezes his eyes shut, a growing headache making itself known.

He looks over to Sam and his expression changes; it's neutral and kind of cold looking. He doesn't smile, doesn't go over to Sam, look at the hard job he did on his makeup, and tell him he's beautiful. He just groans and makes his way to the fridge.

"You eat?" He asks.

"Yes, Dean," Sam replies with a nod, holding a fist in his lap. Dean grunts then, and although Sam can't see it, he knows he's rolling his eyes. He knows it.

"You throw it up again?"

Sam doesn't reply.

"Figures."

Dean walks to the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him. Sam is left alone again.

He forces himself to count to 100 so he doesn't cry, then curls up in the bed and attempts to fall asleep.

He wakes up to a toilet flushing and flush, bare feet walking against creaky flooring. "I know you're not asleep," Dean says, so Sam peels his crusted eyes opens and follows the voice to see Dean, standing naked in front of his bed. His breath hitches and he feels himself grow hard.

"Look at you," Dean coos, "you were all ready for me, weren't you? Fixed yourself up all pretty and everything." He runs calloused fingers over damp lips, pushes hard into his cheeks until he has no choice but to open. Dean pushes his tongue inside his mouth and grips his arms harshly. Sam is sure that there will be bruises there tomorrow.

"I come home and here you are. Did this all for me, didn't you?" Dean hums as he pushes Sam forcibly onto his stomach. He whispers in his ear. Sam shivers.

"Gonna fuck you now. Probably don't even need to prepare you. You probably did that all yourself."

Sam is nodding erratically, pushing his ass into the air and whining in the back of his throat. Dean groans and pushes Sam onto his back, closing a hand around his throat, "Hush," He spits, "I don't want a peep from you." Sam nods again, and then Dean is lifting up his thighs, placing them around his hips and pushing himself inside.

Sam is tight, a blinding hold around him. He thrusts forward, sheathing himself, balls deep. Sam is choking around his hand and Dean can't help but to squeeze tighter, to see Sam's eyes widening, to see him clutching at his fingers, trying to peal them away.

He starts to thrust faster, he can feel sticky liquid around his dick -- he doesn't have to look down to know its blood. Sam is responsive though, he pushes his ass back against Dean's balls, stirring a deep, gruff moan from his throat.

It's when Sam's fumbling hands fall to the sides, that Dean finally allows himself to cum. He strips away his sweaty hand from Sam's throat and watches him beneath him, his eyes roaming exhaustedly over to Dean.

"Thank you, Dean," Sam says, and Dean laughs back, "Anytime."

As soon as Dean is back in clean clothes and a warm cloth to clean Sam, he hears a tired whisper croak out of him, hoarse and sounding broken.

"I love you, Dean."

Dean shakes his head.

"Just go to bed, Sam."

So Sam does.


End file.
